“When you’re dreaming with a broken heart, the waking up is the hardest part…” Dreaming with a broken heart by John Mayer continuously plays on repeat in my head.
This time two years ago, November 7, 2015, I was on my second day of my five day stay in Tripler Army Medical Center’s Labor and Delivery Ward. By this time I had been up for 48 hours. The medical staff would try their best to end my pain of losing my daughter Lauren. The attending physician prescribed almost every anxiety med that there was to ease my pain… To stop the crying and the shaking… But nothing worked. At this point I was emotionally drained as I was busy trying to silence the crying babies that surrounded my hospital room. I did not understand why they would put an actively grieving mother in the middle of the Labor and Delivery floor where I could HEAR babies cry. Especially, when all I wanted was to hear my baby cry when she was born silent. I would recieve phone calls from my parents every hour on the hour. Not much was discussed through my constant sob… My parents helpless because I was physically stationed 4,262 miles away from my humble beginnings in Gulfport, Ms. I sat up in that hospital bed on a constant antibiotic drip running through my veins… Trying to cure the same infection that claimed my daughter’s life less than 24 hours ago. I wanted to die! Not to die, but to ease the pain of losing my baby girl😢. Every year… November 5-10 I re-live those 5 days I spent fighting for my life and broken.